


Bella's Dads

by cakeisnotpie



Series: Clint and Phil (MCU Avengers Universe) [24]
Category: Daredevil (TV), Marvel, Marvel (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Daycare, Domestic Fluff, Family, Family Fluff, Fluff, Kid Fic, M/M, Mutants
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-19
Updated: 2015-07-19
Packaged: 2018-04-10 04:01:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,352
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4376498
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cakeisnotpie/pseuds/cakeisnotpie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes he wasn't Clint Barton or Hawkeye or an Avenger ... he was just Bella's dad. And sometimes that raised all kinds of problems.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bella's Dads

**Author's Note:**

> Unbetaed and written while in the car over our last two trips, so forgive me if you find any errors. I'm stuck on longer fics and this little drabble found its way out.

“Seriously, what did you do to this guy to piss him off?” Clint fired off another arrow and moved from his position behind the air conditioning unit, racing across the roof to a better vantage point. “With a price that high on your head, I might kill you myself and take the money.”

 

“Nothing!” Peter shouted as he tumbled out of the way of a sword slash and tried to grab the black hooded attacker’s arm, but the ninja was too fast. “I haven’t done anything to the Kingpin in … weeks at least.”

 

Managing to get a good angle, Clint sliced an arrow across the roof, bouncing it off of a metal plate and tagging the ninja in his arm, pinning him to the helipad. “Leave it to you to get every bounty hunter on the East Coast after you without knowing why.”

 

Peter kicked the guy’s sword out of reach and scowled down at him. “Hey, I’m a nice guy. Ask anyone. Friendly neighborhood Spider Man, that’s me. Maybe he can tell us.”

 

Arrow’s point aimed right between the eyes, the villain stopped struggling and glared up at them. “Kill me,” he hissed in perfect English with just a slight New England accent. “And ten more will take my place. Once the Hand takes a mission, we always complete it.”

 

“Aw, fucking ninjas,” Clint said with a sigh. “You didn’t happen to come across a woman who could set fires with her mind did you?” he asked Peter.

 

“I was hanging with Daredevil last week and we stopped some hooded figure from burning down a Stark Industries warehouse. I think she was called something like Red Hood or Bloody Hood or Red Mary.”

 

“Bloody Mary?” It had been a long day and Clint wanted to get this over with; it was his day to pick up Bella and Josh at preschool. “You ran into the head of the biggest ninja assassin group and you didn’t know it.”

 

“Hey, sorry, but it’s not like there’s a primer for supervillains. Maybe SHIELD ought to put one together, come to think about it. Be pretty handy; list their skills and their weaknesses.” Peter tilted his head, clearly deep in thought. “Trading cards. That would be cool. Collect ‘em all like Pokemon.”

 

“You be sure and tell Fury that.” Clint tossed a zip tie to Peter so they could wrap this guy up.

 

“Nah, I’ll tell Stark. He’ll do it. Make a lot of money. Villains and Heroes. We’ll get comic artists to draw the pictures and I’ll get a cut for coming up with the idea.”

 

Clint sighed again. Tony would probably go for it. Phil was going to kill them both.

* * *

The Caroline Coulson Preschool for the Gifted, or the CC School as it had come to be called, took up a whole floor in the Stark Tower. The SI Daycare was just below, sharing resources, but the CC School was fast gaining a reputation as one of the most exclusive programs in all of New York. Most people knew only that admission required extensive testing of both child and parents; what they didn’t know was that all the teachers and administrators were mutants who had been trained at the Xavier Academy. Most of the students carried the X gene and some were even exhibiting their powers at the young ages of 2-5 years old. The school was a safe place, designed specifically to help prepare the kids for the next phase of their lives, whether they were profoundly gifted and sent to Professor X’s mansion or mildly gifted and able to adjust to public or private school.

 

The rest were children that needed the security of being surrounded by powerful mutants. Being related to an Avenger or one of the X-men or a high ranking SHIELD agent painted a target on kids’ backs. People who could pay full tuition dropped their children off to play with kids from Hell’s Kitchen on scholarship; no one who needed the help was turned away. Training the next generation, Professor Xavier had said, to work side-by-side with mutants and heroes, that was the mission of the preschool.

 

Of course, that meant there were occasional … mishaps. Like the kid who teleported into Tony’s lab and the one who made it rain inside when someone stole his favorite stuffed bunny. A two-year-old didn’t understand why she couldn’t make the Fisher Price Little People come alive to play with her; Clint marveled at the patience of the teachers as they explained again and again how to use powers responsibly.

 

The elevator doors opened and Clint stepped through the invisible barrier, the magic giving way as it recognized Clint’s DNA. A wave of noise overwhelmed his hearing aids; Tony was still working on a way to separate background sounds from the foreground dialogue. Sometimes, it became nothing but a jumble in his ears and the tech couldn’t handle all the input. That and using EMP arrows was hell on the tiny buds. He’d taken a few hits helping Parker and it wasn’t surprising when one of them squealed and turned to static. Thumbing it off, he took it out and tucked it in his pocket. Phil said he was stuck in the anger phase, denying that his hearing loss meant he had to change his life. Learning sign language was one thing; admitting that he missed a call in the middle of battle? Not going to happen.

 

“Pa**! ***a!” Bella ran up to him and glommed onto his leg, big blue eyes brimming with mischief. Thank the heavens she had yet to exhibit any of the time travel powers she was going to have. Keeping up with her was hard enough as it was without wondering when she was as well. Right now, she was talking at top speed, Clint only catching every third word or so. “****, *** Rich **** **** for * **** date?”

 

He tilted his better ear her way and squatted down to her level. *Slow,* he signed. *Look at me.*

 

She paused to take a breath then put her thumb above her left eyebrow and extended her fingers up, tapping twice. Smiling, Clint nodded and tapped his ear to tell her he understood.

 

“Rich. Play date?” she asked, pronouncing each word carefully. “Pleeeeeeeeeeeeeeeease?”

 

Ah, the infamous Rich; Bella never stopped talking about her new friend. They were constantly together, spreading their mats beside each other for nap time and sharing snacks. If Rich had it, Bella wanted it. A Buzz Lightyear water bottle, markers that only wrote on special paper, a stuffed Eeyore … Bella begged for it all. She’d been asking to have Rich come over to play for a good month and they’d been putting off an answer. With their crazy schedules, making plans was a herculean undertaking.

 

“Papa?” She tugged on his jeans, putting on her best pizza face. “Can I?”

 

“Let me talk to your Dad …” Clint started to say, putting off the decision until he could check the calendar. But Bella’s eyes were drawn to movement across the room; she grabbed his fingers and pulled. When Clint didn’t move, she let go, said something that sounded like “olorichisdadear” and darted away. Clint called after her, but she didn’t stop, disappearing in a crowd of kids.

 

“Da .. darn it,” Clint mumbled. Like a dog with a bone, Bella wasn’t going to let this go; her red curls bobbed as she ducked around a tower of blocks, avoiding levitating Lego bricks. There was nothing to do but chase after her. Past the infant room, across the bouncy floor and into the classroom, Bella finally barrelled into a brown haired boy, wrapping her arms around him as they tumbled to ground together.

 

“Bella!” Clint called in his best disappointed father voice.

 

“Richard!” the man standing on the opposite side of the two children said in a deep disapproving voice. “What **** * said ***** ******* rough?”

 

Perfectly polished Tostoni shoes. Dark purple tailored pants. White vest cut to cover the large girth. White jacket that made his shoulders look even wider. By the time Clint registered the purple ascot with the winking diamond pin, his stomach had dropped to his toes, a coldness settling in its place. Full jowls, a scowl marring his face, smooth bald head -- Wilson Fisk was staring back at him with just as much surprise as Clint felt.

 

“Mr. Barton, I *******,” Fisk said smoothly, offering his pudgy hand. “Or ** ** Agent Barton ****?”

 

“Mr. Fisk,” Clint replied, shaking the hand and stifling the urge to grab Bella and run. “You’re Richard’s dad.”

 

“Indeed.” Fisk turned his attention to his son who was standing straight now, eyes down cast, pulling on his Go, Diego, Go shirt. “Ric****, ** ***ghousing **** ***** children.”

 

“Yes, Father,” the little boy replied. He might have appeared contrite, but he shot a quick side eyed glance at Bella. In return, Bella elbowed Richard and nodded towards his dad. “**** ** Bella.”

 

Fisk looked down, dropped to one knee and held out his hand. “A pleas***, Miss *****.”

 

With a giggle, Bella took the hand, peering at the big emerald on his pinkie. “Pretty *****!”

 

“Yes, inde** ** is.” He smiled and, for a moment, his face softened. “But your **** is * prett*** red.”

 

“Papa!” She turned to Clint, making the signs as she said the word. “Pleeeeeeeeeeeease? Can we?”

 

Her hand movements didn’t escape Fisk’s eye; with one look, he let Clint know he registered just what it meant. “Bella,” he warned, trying to head off any more begging.

 

“Can Ric* **** over *** ** play?” She asked Fisk. “Please?”

 

“Plea**,” Richard added his own entreaty. “I ****ise ** ** goo*.”

 

“** ** *kay with your father?” Fisk stood and turned to fully face Clint, slowing the speed of his words.

 

What could he say? Richard and Bella were five. They didn’t understand differences nor were they responsible for their parents’ choices. “We’d love to have him over,” Clint said. “Maybe a day at the park?”

 

“Swimming!” Bella suggested at top volume. “Roller skating. Hot dogs. Ice cream????”

 

“I’ll *** ** assista** call ** arran** a ti**?” Fisk asked.

 

“Let me write down my number.” Clint thought quickly, looking around for some paper and a writing instrument. Bella tapped his arm and pointed to Fisk.

 

*Not a problem.* Fisk signing was flawless. *I know where you live.*

 

Bella squealed and grabbed Rich; they danced around chanting “Swiper, no swiping!”

 

With a nod to Clint, Fisk corralled Richard and left. Bella, still hyped up, starting twirling in circles, eyes closed, until she got dizzy and fell down. Letting out a sigh, Clint scooped her up and went to get Josh. He had the elevator ride to explain to Phil why he’d just invited the Kingpin’s son to their home.

* * *

“Are you sure about this?” Clint whispered into Phil’s ear.

 

Phil didn’t respond; every argument had been raised and every contingency planned for. After Fisk’s aide had called, they’d begun a long week of negotiations. No one said it out loud, but trust was a sticking point on both sides. Would the Avengers use the Kingpin’s son as a bargaining chip? Milk him for information? Say things about his father? For three days, they hung up on Fisk having one of his bodyguards in sight of Rich at all times; Margaret was paid by Clint and Phil and thus suspect. In the end, the solution presented itself in the form of one Teddy Altman, a high schooler who worked at the preschool; he was deemed acceptable as long as he was on Fisk’s payroll.

 

And now they were here, waiting in the tenth floor lobby, Clint nervously watching the elevator’s floor display. The doors slid open and two men in suits exited, their eyes surveying the room for cameras and possible dangers. Before they walked two steps, Rich barrelled between them, shouting Bella’s name.

 

“Bella! I brought my tiger floaties!” The bodyguards vainly tried to catch him, but Rich slung his backpack to the floor and unzipped. Action figures tumbled out, a mixture of teenage mutant ninja turtles and superheroes including one Captain America. “Mom says if Teddy’s with me, I can go in with just them.”

 

“Richard, dear.” An elegant dark haired woman, knelt and scooped up the toys, tucking them back in the pack. “Remember what we talked about?”

 

For a second, Rich scrunched up his nose, thinking hard.  Then he stood and dipped his head. “Thank you Mr. Coulson, Mr. Barton, for having me over.”

 

“You’re welcome,” Phil said, bending over to smile at the small boy. “Margaret and Teddy are going to take you upstairs. What do you want to do first; swimming or bouncy room?”

 

“Swim!” The excitement was back. “No, wait, bouncy! No, swim.”

 

“Let’s get you in your suit,” Teddy Altman said, offering the boy his hand. A tall teenager, Teddy was all muscle and as gentle as could be with kids. “Shall we?”

 

Margaret followed, looking for the world like the perfect English nanny in her sensible pantsuit and low heels. It made Clint feel good to know she was more lethal than the two bodyguards; she’d keep Bella and Rich safe. Teddy was just icing on the cake.

 

“Mr. Coulson. Mr. Barton.” Rich’s mother’s voice was rich and cultured. A grey Armani suit and silk blouse spoke of money and an eye to classic style. “I wondered if you would like to have a cup of coffee with me? I saw a lovely little shop just around the corner.”

 

“The Chipped Cup. They have excellent scones.” Phil caught Clint’s eyes and Clint flicked his finger in agreement. “Of course, Mrs. Fisk. A latte sounds perfect.”

 

“Please, call me Vanessa,” she said as she followed the guards back into the elevator. The two men were good; neither one blinked at being in a small metal box with a SHIELD agent and an Avenger.

 

“And I’m Phil and this is Clint,” Phil offered. Phil being diplomatic and bad ass at the same time was one thing Clint loved to see. “Although we’re usually just Bella’s Dads lately.”

 

She laughed, her head tilting back, the short length of hair swinging free. “Ah, yes, I have to admit I like being nothing but Richard’s Mom sometimes. Best name I have.”

 

Everyone put on sunglasses as they emerged, the bodyguards taking the back flank and ceding the front to Phil and Clint. With the street noise, talking was difficult so they walked the three blocks in silence, Clint grabbing the door for Vanessa when they got to the shop. It was fairly empty at 10:30 in the morning; they easily found a table next to the banquet with two chairs. Three drinks -- a caramel latte for Clint, a jamaican blend for Phil and an espresso for Vanessa -- and they were sitting in the back corner, Clint facing the front door and Phil the back.

 

“Thank you for taking the time to speak with me,” Vanessa began. “I find talking in person much more effective than texts or phone calls. Old-fashioned I guess.” She sipped from her cup, leaving  a red lipstick stain on the edge. “I wanted to express just how happy I am that you agreed to host Richard today; I understand the complexities of the situation and know you made concessions. I am very grateful. It’s been a struggle for Richards to make friends and it’s wonderful to see him so happy.”

 

“The protective urge is strong when there’s so much danger,” Phil agreed. “We made a decision to do everything we could for Bella to have as normal a life as possible.”

 

“Yes, exactly. Plus the fact that Richard is … special.” She huffed a bit into her cup. “I’m not used to being able to call him a mutant in public, so we use euphemisms usually. Hard habit to break.” She sat her drink down and took a deep breathe. “I want to say a few things. First, Wilson and I believe that children should be off-limits. Period. Rest assured that Bella would be treated the same as Richard if you allow her to visit our home. And I will not allow anyone to use her as a proxy for you.”

 

“We believe the same,” Clint said. Such sincerity was in the woman’s voice, but Clint had learned every promise could be broken.

 

“As is the school. Finding a place where Richard’s gift is not only accepted but he is taught to control it, well, I’d almost given up. We had him the Bradford School for the Gifted and he lasted two weeks before there was an incident. It’s very difficult to explain to a three-year-old why he can’t float off the ground to get a toy on a shelf.”

 

More than her words, telling them Richard’s power went a long way to make Clint believe she was serious. Parents of mutants jealously guarded the exact nature of their children’s power. “Fortunately, Bella hasn’t presented yet,” Clint said. “But Josh is hell on wheels when it comes to kinects and legos.”

 

“I have seen a few of his creations,” Vanessa replied. “A budding engineer, I’d say.”

 

“We can’t keep a toaster or a coffeemaker in one piece,” Clint said.

 

“Yes, I can imagine. We had to baby proof even the highest cabinets and use a tether when we’re outside before Richard could control it. Thank God for car seats with straps.” She glanced at her watch. “At least he doesn’t idolize a hero that can fly; Captain America punching everything and throwing that plastic shield around is enough to deal with.”

 

“He likes Cap?” Clint chuckled. “Better Cap than Spiderman. That would be awkward.”

 

A stony curtain fell over Vanessa’s eyes and Phil nudged Clint’s leg in their secret signal. “Ah, yeah, foot-in-mouth disease. I have it. Sorry. I was thinking about swinging and climbing the walls not the other.” Another nudge from Phil. “Shutting up. Got it.”

 

“Don’t worry.” Phil stepped in to save him. “There will be no discussion of any parents’ activities or jobs. As I told your Mr. Wesley, we want him to be safe and happy.”

 

She sighed then and sat back. “I’m sorry. I’m an overprotective mother, but there’s good reason.  Of course, the same will be accorded to Bella. Speaking of which, I hoped we could return the gesture by hosting her iin two weeks. The Guggenheim has a children’s program that I’ve been dying to take Richard to but our schedule has been so crazy. Does Bella like art? Would that be an acceptable day out for her? We’d get lunch before and perhaps ice cream afterwards. Richard wants to show her his action figure collection.”

 

“Actually, Bella is already enrolled; she loves the art days, so that would be lovely. Usually she’s saddled with her younger brother, so being with Richard should be more fun for her,” Phil said, flipping through his calendar on his phone. “Let’s tentatively say yes until we check our full schedule.”

 

“Good. I look forward to it.” Vanessa stood, the bodyguards her ever present shadow. “It’s been nice meeting you.” They both stood as well, courtesy ingrained in Phil and Clint following his lead. “Oh, and Clint. I’m sure we’re going to learn little details from our children. Perhaps it’s best if we simply pretend we didn’t hear them.”

 

She left and Clint sank back down. “The Kingpin knows about my hearing loss. Great. That’s just perfect. Like hell he’s not going to use that against me.”

 

“We’ll be prepared. Look how well the new aids worked today.” Phil put a hand on Clint’s leg. “It was only a matter of time before the news got out. Besides, I think the bum knee is more of a problem. It went out easily last night.”

 

Clint grinned. “That’s your fault. I’m getting too old for that balance on one knee position and you know it.”

 

“That not what you said then. I seem to remember something about depth and speed…”

 

“You know, we’ve got a few hours to ourselves this afternoon, come to think of it. That boutique hotel around the corner probably has a room.” Clint wiggled his eyebrows; Phil laughed.

 

“Now that sounds like a plan.”

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Have I ever run into a supervillan while picking up my kids from daycare? I have not, but I have had the experience of having to make plans with parents I didn't like or who didn't like me. It's a truth well known that kids take none of that into account when they make best friends. A good parent takes it in stride, bites the bullet, and makes their kids happy. :)


End file.
